


Cheval's Desk

by etherian



Series: The Dark Ones [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Play, Erotica, F/M, Frustration, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherian/pseuds/etherian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a scholar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheval's Desk

Elana tip-toed across the marble floor past the wide staircase that led to the upper floors, and stopped a moment under the heavy, grand chandelier with half of its 300 candles burning. Cheval lit them; he had the magic to do so. Flickering light filtered through the 755 crystals to throw a halo of glittering light across the Great Hall.

Remaining in greyed shadows were the arched windows of stained glass. The only other light flicked from the flames of a very large fireplace with a wide granite mantle held up by flanking gryphons; each held up one clawed paw. The tails of the the gryphons spread outward until they became a heavy iron grate that kept embers from leaping beyond the fireplace.

Elana's path, when she resumed it, took her opposite of the dark shadowed corridor she had come from. There was a shelf of books, a gathering of green velvet upholstered, cherry-stained oak furniture to form a sitting area, and a wide, carved desk resplendent with mythical beasts. The furniture was a lounger, a loveseat, two low, plush chairs that had matching ottomans, and a low table at the centre of the seating area.

A tall candelabra of silver with nine white candles stood beside the desk and spilled light onto its surface. With a light sprint, and a smile that offered a giggle upon her lips, Elana made her way to the desk to look down upon the paperwork that sat there. A quill-rest of obsidian held a silver tipped quill. Next to the quill-rest was a heavy crystal inkwell.

Old books musty with age, dried by decades hidden away. Manuscripts stained by touch of those that coveted the words, and one stained by the now brown death of its master's blood. The letters were beautiful; curves, swirls, dainty characters that danced uniformly across parchment. Alas, Elana realised, the words were of none she could read. They were, to her, no more than a penned artwork in inks of black, blue, brown, and red. Elana lifted a very worn, leather stamped tome, and opened it to near its centre. She frowned at it.

The book was lifted from her hands from behind just as she felt the air imbued with her lover's scent. She leans back against his chest and he steps indecently closer; his stomach flush to her lower back, his hips resting lasciviously above the swell of her bottom.

"Arabic, my love." He whispered into the shell of Elana's ear. "A language much older than thyself."

She leaned her head back to look up at the man taller than herself. "You can't read Arabic, Cheval."

"I can read and write several languages, Little Snake," Cheval placed the book back with the other writings and then concentrated on Elana. He rocked his hips against hers as he moved aside a section of her curls to reveal her ivory throat. "Delicious," he murmured as she purred as his suggestive touch.

Elana turned to face Cheval and she giggled at the silver & gold pince nez reading glasses decorating the end of his nose. They were quite dashing. He smiled and bestowed a kiss to the end of her nose. Murmuring to her in the French his aristocratic mother taught him as a small boy he said, "You are the rose of crimson I pluck day and night... you are the treasure of my piratical heart... my heart beats to your soul."

Cheval then drew her tight into his arms where he spoke between nips to her chin, jaw, lips, and throat in the soft, swirling tones of Arabic, "My smiles, my laughter, my sorrow, my tears... all that I take you give..." once more her turns so his kisses follow her collarbone, shoulder, and then up her spine to the nape of her neck. Possessively one hand presses over her abdomen, caressing its softness, then almost as if seeking permission, he bites sharply between neck and shoulder.

Elana raises one hand to smooth over Cheval's bent head as he just samples the taste of her life. Once more kissing, and now licking her sensitive throat, he nudges her until she is bent with her chest resting across the old books and manuscripts. Allowing the touch of his fingers to apologise for the disappearance of his heated mouth, his hands caress down her sides, her hips, over her bottom until he is lifting the smooth satin of her dress, and the silk of her chemise up the back of calves, thighs, and waist to reveal her luscious derriere.

Elana gasps at the cool air of the Great Hall drifts over her bared skin. She hears the swift fumble as Cheval releases himself from the confines of his trousers. Slowly as a considerate lover he pierces her from behind.

"Too gentle, my Monster," she pleads to no avail. Cheval remains deliberate in his rocking pace in order to further Elana's anguished concupiscence.

"Ohhhh, Cheval, please," she begs when his weight falls over her back and his kisses begin again upon her neck.

Cheval's exquisitely thoughtful thrusts torture his lover in a way his brutal love making does not. Elana moves to encourage more force but Cheval's movement becomes more languid, nearly selfish. His kisses are teasing nips, the touch of his darting tongue mere stings of promise. Then, his fangs enter through skin, muscle, and vein and Elana shudders violently.

Her delightful reaction, the taste of molten copper, incite the beast within Cheval and his movements becomes that which Elana craves. Her hips are ground into the edge of the desk as the beating of her own heart thunders desperately in her ear. It is not long before she cries out her pleasure as tears of bliss trail down her cheeks. Soon Cheval's growls erupted into a roar of completion until he falls heavily onto Elana. She welcomes his weighty paralysis until tenderly he withdraws, allows her skirts to fall.

As he lifts Elana into his embrace she is almost limp with the orgasm that fades with each pulse of her body. Cheval kisses her and Elana finds just enough energy to place her hands around his neck. Cheval lifts her then. He strides across the Great Hall towards the wide staircase, and with the hem of her dress drifting over each step he ascends to their bedroom where upon their bed she curls into him and he envelops her protectively.

Elana sleeps. Cheval's eyes close as he listen to her breathe in rhythm to his beating heart.

~Jayne d'Arcy


End file.
